I’m Joanne Miller Waldron, and Write Something You Love is my blog. Its purpose is to discuss writing, but I may share other tidbits from time to time. I owe special thanks to Elsa Schneider, “artiste du dimanche” (translation: spare time painter), for the picture of the Ampersand Cafe and Bookstore in Sydney that she has graciously allowed me to use here.

I want to share how I came up with the name Write Something You Love for this blog. My son was lucky enough to study with Klara Berkovich, an iconic violin teacher from Russia, who had the highest standards imaginable. She always used to say, “Do something you love.” When my son had finished performing a piece that he’d prepared for a lesson, she’d ask, “Did you love it?” In this manner, she taught him to analyze his own playing. The idea was to continue working on a piece of music until he could say that he loved it. My son took the principles he learned from his violin teacher and applied them to many other disciplines. I believe these principles can be applied to writing, as well. Just as great musicians must be able to evaluate their own playing, writers must also be able to evaluate their writing objectively. So, when I speak of writing something that you love, I don’t mean writing about gardening if you enjoy plants. My goal is to work on a piece of writing until I can say honestly that I love it. If a passage I’ve written doesn’t feel quite right, I’ll put it away until I have an idea about how to fix it. I know a piece of writing is finished when I feel happy about it.

I invite you to grab a cup of hot tea or other favorite beverage, and join me on my writing journey. I’ll begin with a favorite quote from the Gilmore Girls series:

“I live in two worlds. One is a world of books. I’ve been a resident of Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha County, hunted the white whale aboard the Pequod, fought alongside Napoleon, sailed a raft with Huck and Jim, committed absurdities with Ignatius J. Reilly, rode a sad train with Anna Karenina, and strolled down Swann’s Way.”

— Rory Gilmore, The Gilmore Girls

I’ve discovered that the best writers are avid readers. I believe one of the best ways to become a better writer is to read as many examples of great writing as possible. According to Australian writer Patrick Lenton, there were 339 books referenced on the Gilmore Girls series. Even if you didn’t watch the series, take a look at Rory Gilmore’s reading list challenge. How many of these books have you read? Share in the comments below. Have any of the books referenced influenced your writing? Comments are moderated in order to keep the blog respectable and spam-free. Thanks for your patience.

Until next time,

Write something you love! — Joanne

The hero in every story must face many obstacles before reaching his ultimate goal. Maybe a prince wants to save a princess from a fire-breathing dragon. Saving the princess is the external conflict. Once the external conflict is resolved, the story is over.

In the best stories, the obstacle within the hero (internal conflict) is the one he finds most difficult to face. The internal conflict has to do with the character’s belief system, which keeps him from reaching his external goal. Typically, the protagonist is tormented by a wound from his past, and this wound is something that happens before the story begins. The protagonist usually doesn’t realize this wound is influencing his behavior. Maybe a prince watched his family burn in a fire when he was a child, but he needs to overcome his fear of fire to defeat the fire-breathing dragon and save the princess.

Using a Prologue to Introduce the Wound

Writers may wonder the best way to introduce a character’s wound. One way (not the best) to introduce a character’s wound is with a prologue. In the movie Twister, Helen Hunt plays the role of Dr. Jo Harding, who is a storm chaser. The movie begins with Harding watching her father being swept away by a tornado when she was a child. However, most movies don’t use a prologue to show a character’s wound. The wound is part of the character’s backstory. I often advise writers not to use a prologue to introduce a character’s wound. While a prologue is a convenient way for the writer to inform readers about a character’s past, most of the time, a prologue is not the best way to elicit an emotional response from a reader or viewer.

If I happen to watch or read a news report about a bus hitting someone I don’t know, it doesn’t matter in the same way that it would if that news report was about a bus hitting a neighbor or a friend. That’s why many writers opt to introduce a character and get the reader to care about that character before showing his wound. I recently critiqued a manuscript that began with a prologue wherein a child was struggling to save himself after a canoe overturned and his parents drowned. Of course, the child turned out to be the hero in the story. While I was reading the prologue, I kept thinking how much more effective the story could be if the writer would wait and add the backstory later. Sure, it’s always sad when a child is involved in a boating accident. However, it’s always easier to feel the pain of someone you know. It’s hard for writers to keep important information about their main characters to themselves, but nevertheless, wise writers play a waiting game before they skillfully let the story thunder rumble. They weave in the pieces of backstory in small bits. Imagine if the movie Silence of the Lambs had begun with a prologue showing what had happened to Clarice Starling as a child. It wouldn’t have been nearly as effective or exciting as Hannibal Lecter coaxing the information out of her.

Using a Flashback to Introduce the Wound

Flashbacks are another method writers sometimes choose to introduce a character’s wound. Story guru Michael Hauge admits in an interview with Film Courage that he’s “not really fond of flashbacks as a rule, especially to reveal wounds.” One movie that Hauge feels is an exception is Hitch. He explains:

But in that movie, it works I think because it’s such a funny flashback as well as touching, and it establishes such an important quality for the character of Hitch. Because we see when he was in college, he had his heart broken and that’s when he acquired the belief that if I fall in love with anybody, it’s going to lead to a broken heart. Which leads to his identity, his I’ll help everyone else fall in love but I don’t do that; that’s not for me.

Screenwriters and novelists pay Michael Hauge lots of money (hundreds of dollars an hour) for his advice, and I have no doubt that it’s worth every penny. The man knows how to tell a story. I would advise any writer to seek out his books, interviews, workshops, and blog posts. Hauge is clear in his assertion that in most cases, the writer does not want to announce a character’s wound at the beginning. There are always exceptions, but it’s more common not to reveal the wound until well into the story. Hauge notes that the movie Good Will Hunting is half over before the viewer learns about the abuse Will suffered as a child.

One of the most effective ways to reveal the wound is through dialogue. It’s oftentimes more powerful to hear about a wound that a character suffered than to watch it on a screen.

In the movie Fifty Shades of Grey, the viewer learns that Christian Grey was horribly abused as a child when he confesses his past to Anastasia during an intimate moment, well into the movie. It would’ve been a nauseating experience for movie viewers to have to watch a child being abused onscreen. It’s a much more moving experience for the viewer to piece things together as information is slowly revealed through dialogue. Writers are often told to show rather than tell, and this is good advice much of the time. However, readers and viewers of most types of fiction take no joy out of reading about or watching children suffer. However, it’s always satisfying when, in an emotional moment, a character confides in another character about his past.

Let the Reader Make Inferences About the Wound

In some stories, the wound is never clearly stated. After all, it’s most important for the writer to know what the character’s wound is. The writer has to know the backstory for the hero well enough to understand what wounded him in the past that made him the way he is in the present. Although it may be tempting to use prologues and flashbacks to introduce character wounds, it’s almost always better to wait and introduce the wound through dialogue.

What do you think? Feel free to let me know in the comments below. Comments are moderated in order to maintain the spam-free, family atmosphere.

QUESTION: What’s the problem with opening a novel with dialogue?

Answer: I prefer not to open with dialogue, but there are writers who do it successfully. Most people are familiar with Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White (you know, the White who coauthored The Elements of Style, Fourth Edition with Strunk). The first line of White’s famous book is etched in my memory:

“Where’s Papa going with that axe?” said Fern.

In the case of Charlotte’s Web, the opening draws the reader into the story, right into the middle of some exciting conflict. However, it’s risky to open with dialogue when the reader has no context for what is taking place. Similarly, it’s chancy to open with a character’s thoughts (interior monologue).

If an opening makes a reader feel disoriented, (s)he might not continue reading. Although some authors get away with opening a novel with dialogue, it’s better to introduce the characters and setting first. If a character speaks before a reader knows anything about the character, the reader may form an image that is different than the author’s. Then, as more details about the character come to light, it could be quite jarring to the reader if he is forced to change his mental image of that character. Some readers even create voices in their heads when they read dialogue. Imagine a reader’s frustration if he has to recreate a character’s voice.

There’s nothing like a real-life example. Suppose for a moment that you’re a single woman at a party. Some guy you’ve never met walks up to you and says, “Let’s get out of here.” That line will certainly get your attention but maybe not in a good way. Now consider the same scenario, except that a friend introduces that guy as the Chief of Neurosurgery at a well-known hospital before he tries to whisk you away. Maybe you still wouldn’t want to leave with him, but you might decide to steer him to the punch bowl. Dialogue means nothing without proper context.

Many writers wonder when the word that should be used and when it should be omitted. Because the word that can function in so many ways, the answer isn’t simple. When in doubt, opt for clarity. Here are some of the ways the word that may be used:

As an adverb. (Sam didn’t understand how she could be that disagreeable.)

As a relative pronoun. (The casserole that she brought was delicious.)

Sometimes in the latter two cases, the word that can be omitted. However, clarity always trumps reducing word count.

Use That With Thinking Verbs

When using “thinking” verbs (believe, consider, decide, imagine, know, realize, recognize, wonder, etc.), the word that is often retained for clarity. Consider the following sentence:

She believed her professor, who was older than her father, was trying to seduce her.

The sentence above is confusing as written, because at first glance, the reader assumes the professor is a good guy. When the reader gets to the end of the sentence, he realizes this isn’t the case. Use this version of the sentence for clarity:

She believed that her professor, who was older than her father, was trying to seduce her.

Use That to Retain Parallelism

It’s important to keep the use of that consistent within a sentence. Consider this sentence:

He insists the allegations are false and that he’s planning on calling his attorney.

In order to retain parallelism, it’s better to write the sentence above like this:

He insists that the allegations are false and that he’s planning on calling his attorney.

Clarity and brevity are both necessary qualities of fine writing; however, clarity is king. Never sacrifice clarity for brevity. Savvy writers won’t remove that if it makes a sentence flow better, either. Writers must use good judgement.

QUIZ

In each example, determine whether that is needed. (Answers follow.)

Susan said (that) she was sleepy.

The teacher announced (that) her new homework policy would be in place soon.

The store manager announced December 1 (that) the store would be closing.

She believed (that) her husband, who was always late getting home, was having an affair.

She insists (that) there is a squirrel in her attic and that she’s calling an exterminator.

Answers:

It’s fine to omit that for brevity here.

Keep that here. Without it, the reader might think (momentarily) that the new homework policy has already been put forth.

Keep that here. Without it, the reader wouldn’t know whether the announcement was made on December 1 or if the store would be closing on December 1.

Keep that here. Readers shouldn’t think for a second that she believed her husband.

QUESTION: Popular writer, Mr. [Name Removed], insists that fiction writers should never use semicolons. What’s wrong with using semicolons?

ANSWER: Semicolons in fiction aren’t taboo. The idea of banning a punctuation mark in fiction is patently ridiculous. Ask popular fiction writer Jojo Moyes. The first line of her book Still Me contains a semicolon (and lots of other punctuation marks):

It was the mustache that reminded me I was no longer in England: a solid, grey millipede firmly obscuring the man’s upper lip; a Village People mustache, a cowboy mustache, the miniature head of a broom that meant business.

Jojo Moyes isn’t the only great writer to use semicolons, and no competent writer should eliminate them. To tell a writer not to use a semicolon would be like telling a painter not to use the color blue. Semicolons are an integral part of a writer’s toolbox. While some writing teachers advise beginning writers not to use semicolons, this advice does not apply to seasoned writers. A wise mother would not give a toddler a serrated knife, but that doesn’t mean she would carve a steak with a table knife. Semicolons should never be used randomly; however, there are times when only a semicolon will do.

Just as great musicians realize that people have eyes as well as ears and often choreograph their performances, great writers know that writing is more than printed words on a page. Because I have a musical background, I like to think about the way words sound when I read them aloud. So much meaning can be conveyed with punctuation. In music, a composer has to have a way to tell the musician how quickly a particular passage should be played, from Larghissimo (very, very slow) to Prestissimo (200 bpm and over). There are also ways for a composer to tell musicians to hold a certain note a little longer. Likewise, writers have different ways of punctuating sentences to control the flow.

In Keys to Great Writing: Mastering the Elements of Composition and Revision, Stephen Wilbers writes:

It [the semicolon] creates a pause shorter than the period, slightly shorter than the colon, and longer than the comma. To eliminate it entirely from your repertoire is to limit your range as a writer.

A semicolon is used to join to phrases in a way that suggests a connection. For example, consider the following:

Owning a violin is one thing; playing it is another.

“You teach yourselves the law, but I train your minds. You come in here with a skull full of mush; you leave thinking like a lawyer.” — Charles W. Kingsfield Jr., The Paper Chase

“Every person in this house almost flunked out of law school in their first year. It’s not hard to see why; they had broads on the brain.” — William Moss, Tutor, The Paper Chase

In each of the examples above, the independent clause immediately following each semicolon is related to the independent clause preceding the semicolon. The semicolon separates, but it still implies a link.

Look again at the first example:

Owning a violin is one thing; playing it is another.

Now look at some other ways to punctuate the same example:

Owning a violin is one thing, but playing it is another.

Owning a violin is one thing. Playing it is another.

Owning a violin is one thing—playing it is another.

Punctuation allows experienced writers to control the cadence and flow of their writing. Eliminating semicolons would prevent writers from having a full artistic range of expression. Remember the snippet of dialogue from the movie Amadeus:

Emperor Joseph II: My dear young man, don’t take it too hard. Your work is ingenious. It’s quality work. And there are simply too many notes, that’s all. Just cut a few and it will be perfect.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Which few did you have in mind, Majesty?

The thought of removing notes from Mozart’s compositions would make any musician cringe—just as I’d cringe if Jojo Moyes removed the semicolon from the opening line of her book Still Me.

There are no absolutes in writing. As Annie Proulx, who once won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, said:

You should write because you love the shape of stories and sentences and the creation of different words on a page. Writing comes from reading, and reading is the finest teacher of how to write.

Until next time,

Write something you love! — Joanne

Now that a new year is upon us, it’s time for reflection. I was cleaning out one of my dresser drawers today and found a poem that I’d written many years ago in response to something that happened in a church that I’d attended since early childhood. I’ve moved on, and many of the folks that prompted me to write this poem are probably no longer on this earth. In short, a group of stodgy church members decided that it would be a great idea to remove all children from the church during the worship service and provide free babysitting, all because every now and then, a small child or a baby made a little peep. Of course, most of the time, the parents would address the situation immediately. As a Sunday School teacher/superintendent and the mother of a well-behaved child, I was troubled. I had no problem with parents who wanted to use a church babysitting service doing so; however, I didn’t think all children should be routinely ushered out of the church. Anyway, as Edward Bulwer-Lytton (dark-and-stormy-night guy) wrote in his play Richelieu; Or the Conspiracy:

Beneath the rule of men entirely great
The pen is mightier than the sword.

So, as I often did (and still do), I fought the battle with my pen and wrote a little poem. Since this happened such a long time ago, I feel comfortable sharing it now. I hold no grudges toward anyone with differing views. Feel free to let me know in the comment section if you’ve ever used your pen to fight injustice. Comments are moderated. Be nice. And Happy New Year!

Ponderings

As I sit in this stone-cold pew
And ponder over what to do,
I look around me and I see
A fading Christianity.

Though the Gospel still is heard,
And we teach only the Word,
Our ears are closed to what we teach,
And we don’t practice what we preach.

Begrudgingly we give “our share,”
Offer the sick a hurried prayer,
And we can always find a way
So taxes we don’t have to pay.

Unashamed the laws we break,
Because it’s done for Jesus’ sake.
No matter what we do or say,
He will take our sins away.

We sit in church and fret and pout,
And try to throw the children out,
Because their wiggling and commotion
Might interrupt sincere devotion.

We don’t want them here at all,
But chained behind a soundproof wall.
Then we can pray and we can sing
To our Savior, Lord, and King.

As I sit in this stone-cold pew
Silently mulling what to do,
I see the altar and the cross,
But no more children—what a loss!

I see our church so cold and bare,
With hardly any people there.
For if we drive the young away,
What is left for those who stay—

A quiet church in which to hear
That with Christ we have no fear?
But now that the young have gone away,
What makes us think that Christ will stay?